Chapter 481

Chapter 481
Chapter 481. Each Other’s Purposes (5)

—

The massive assembly surged forward like an unstoppable deluge. Compounding that terrifying spectacle were their grotesque countenances and the bizarre armaments clutched in their grips, rendering the courtyard a vivid manifestation of the underworld. They resembled a swarm of famished phantoms desperate to consume every living thing in their path.

“Aaaaagh!”

The fervor ignited by the sight of spilling blood combined with the frantic hysteria born from staring death in the face completely unhinged the minds of the Black Path warriors, who already possessed fragile mental fortitude. It reduced them to primal beasts driven entirely by the urge to slaughter. Exactly as Yong So-a had anticipated, the moment had arrived when these street thugs, devoid of any real strategic order or true bravery, transformed into rabid hounds throwing themselves forward.

And frenzied hounds, more than anything, possessed an unyielding fixation on their target.

“We survive if we take down Yong So-a! Slay Yong So-a!!!”

I forcefully drilled that objective into the minds of the maddened crowd, pulling an immense wave of hostility toward him. Yong So-a was already standing at the absolute vanguard of our defense. The Black Path warriors flooding through the shattered ramparts and the pulverized gateway caught sight of their mark instantly and lunged forward.

I cried out in dark amusement.

“Perfect!”

“What could possibly bring you joy right now?”

A radiant azure sword-light (*Gang-gi*) enveloped Yong So-a’s weapon. Despite the fact that an immense reservoir of internal energy was being funneled into his blade in a split second, the aura coating the Zen Wind Sword (*Seon-pung-geom*) remained flawlessly steady without a single tremor. It proved beyond doubt that his command over drawing and channeling his inner power was incomparably fluid and refined.

The two-foot beam of sword-light, stretching outward like an elegant brush stroke, described a graceful curve and cleaved through the air.

*Kua-ak—*
*Keo-heuk—*

Absolutely nothing could withstand the sharpness of that ethereal edge. It lopped off limbs, decapitated enemies, and tore through torsos, yet the Zen Wind Sword glided through it all without encountering the slightest resistance. His movements resembled an intricate dance. With weapon in hand, he seemed to be illustrating his own canvas in every corner of the battlefield. Each time the Zen Wind Sword, serving as his brush, swept through the air, crimson lifeblood splattered across the earth like spilled ink just beyond his personal space.

‘Is that obnoxious bastard truly executing an orthodox style?’

Even when dealing with a rabble of low-tier mercenaries, anyone else would feel overwhelmed by such sheer numbers, yet that irritating man showed not a shred of hesitation.

‘Enjoy it while it lasts; this is only the opening act.’

Simultaneously, a wave of curiosity struck me. For a warrior who anticipated his foe’s techniques before they even manifested in single combat—could his foresight map out every variable against hundreds or thousands of enemies at once? My recollections from my previous existence confirmed he had never suffered a single loss in a duel save for his encounter with Gwak Gung, but that was merely lore gathered from scrolls and hearsay, not an event I had verified firsthand. To fully comprehend his capabilities, gathering more observation was essential.

“Yong So-a is right there! A bounty of one hundred gold *nyang* for his head!”

I broadcasted the target even more provocatively, luring the mob back in waves. However,

“Forget the bounty! Just seize Yong So-a!”

“Slaughter everyone except for Yong So-a!”

“Wear Yong So-a down through numbers!”

From the midst of the rabble, seasoned Black Path warriors who seemed to hold command began barking orders at the top of their lungs. And the trajectory of those who redirected their assault was…

“!”

Predictably, it shifted straight toward me.

“Blast it…”

Yong So-a, who had just dispatched four opponents while whirling gracefully like a falling blossom, spared a passing glance in my direction.

“Is this the literal definition of falling into your own trap?”

I had zero opportunity to throw a retort back at the insufferable Yong So-a. The veteran Black Path warriors were already bearing down on my position like a massive rogue wave.

*Woooong—*

The Red Light Sword, saturated with my inner reserves, blazed with a deep crimson glow.

*Gue-eo-eo-eo-eo.*

A haunting, agonizing wail echoed across the battlefield as my blade fanned out in a wide arc.

*Char-reureureureu.*

The scarlet sword-qi pierced the vital areas of my attackers with lethal precision, making them spray blood that ran darker than the crimson light itself.

*Chwa-reureu.*
*Chwa-reureureureu.*

Transitioning from the Great Heaven Sword Art, I unleashed the Twin Heaven Sword Art (*Ssang-cheon-geom-gyeol*), sending dozens of distinct sword projections weaving endlessly through the battlefield.

“M-My god!”

Staring at this unnatural, overwhelming display, a deep terror took root in the expressions of the Black Path warriors.

“What are you standing around for! Intercept it!”

“Dammit!”

To mask their mounting panic, they spat out oaths and swung their blades haphazardly. Yet, the Twin Heaven Sword Art, designed to pinpoint a foe’s flaw amidst lightning-fast transitions, was not something their clumsy, desperate swings could hope to parry.

*Keo-heuk!*
*Pua-ak!*
*Keok! Keok!*

It mattered little whether they could differentiate between the illusory blades and the genuine steel. If they managed to evade the initial strike, my secondary blow claimed their lives. If they somehow slipped past the second, a third strike sufficed to finish them. The ocean of enemies demanded a brutal, straightforward approach: wipe them out all the same, regardless of identity. And in this current life, executing that doctrine felt far simpler than it ever did in my previous incarnation.

‘A mere tenfold disadvantage? Next to a hundredfold onslaught, this is child’s play!’

When I recalled my past life, where I fought off infinite tides of corrupted humans relying solely on a patchwork of unrefined martial styles like the Tae-ul Cultivation Method, the Great Jin Divine Art, the So-cheon Sword Style, and the Flash Thunder Sword Style… and contrasted it with the present, where the enemy count was finite and the engagement time was manageable, there was no reason to feel intimidated.

*Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa!*

As the tempest of steel crashed down like a falling star directly into the heart of the opposing forces, the Black Path warriors who had been charging blindly under the influence of battle lust froze, their minds clearing under the shock. To be sure, overwhelming numbers can wear down an expert, but the chasm in raw martial prowess was far too wide for the forces of Hyeol-cheon-bo to turn the tide. The mercenaries attempting to pin down Yong So-a were shoved forward by the weight of their retreating comrades, effectively throwing themselves onto the edge of Yong So-a’s blade as sacrifices. Conversely, the battlefield control offered by my techniques was far too effective in multi-target combat for them to ever breach my defense.

“Aaaaak!”

“Mercy…!”

“Keep advancing! It’s only Hwa-pung-jang!”

Furthermore, the disciples of Hwa-pung-jang, who had secured their defensive lines at the rear, maintained their formations flawlessly, repelling the enemy’s advances with maximum efficiency. Even the members of the Yong-bong Association lent strategic support whenever needed. The tenfold numerical disparity failed to tip the scales heavily in favor of the invaders. Instead, as the initial fervor of the Black Path warriors began to evaporate, the defenders of Hwa-pung-jang and the Yong-bong Association grew increasingly confident that total triumph was within reach.

“J-Just what kind of monsters are these!”

“How can they possess this much power?”

Panic explicitly gripped the veteran Black Path warriors as they watched their peers transformed into lifeless mounds the moment they rushed blindly toward me. A significant portion of them began contemplating a quiet retreat to the back lines, completely disregarding the Blood Spear Squad (*Hyeol-chang-dae*) that held weapons at their backs to prevent desertion.

To permanently break their resolve, I executed a definitive ultimate technique.

[Sword Art of Ten Thousand Seas, Heaven and Earth]
[Sword of Heaven]

The most guarded esoteric technique belonging to the Tae-ul Sword Emperor. The pinnacle of swordsmanship he spent his life chasing. The Sword Art of Ten Thousand Seas, Heaven and Earth.

This particular style, which I had merely replicated superficially until this moment, was now manifesting with true mastery. The ten thousand blades, splitting into quadrants, operated independently to fill the sky with countless manifestations of steel. The array easily surpassed dozens, multiplying into hundreds of distinct forms. Creating an illusion where a separate blade was relentlessly seeking the life of every single combatant, the sight of the dense martial net overlaying the sky caused the Black Path warriors to scream in utter horror.

“U-Uwaaaaak!”

“W-What is happening?!”

“This is madness!”

Terrified by the sheer volume of sword projections blanketing the firmament like a torrential downpour of arrows, they began trampling one another in a frantic rush to flee the zone of destruction.

“Hold your ground… those are merely illusions… Quit shoving!”

A few capable commanders perceived the underlying reality, but the rational cries of a handful could not sway the frantic terror of the masses. The mercenaries fled mindlessly, oblivious to whether a blade or a spear was poised to claim their throats.

And with that, I brought my weapon down.

*Swa-aaaaa-ak—*

The ten thousand manifestations tethered to the Red Light Sword descended simultaneously. The vast majority dissolved into thin air as illusions, but dozens of men were cleaved directly by the concentrated sword-qi, spraying crimson as their severed heads tumbled across the dirt. In comparison to the grand scale of the technique, the actual body count was relatively modest, but given the fractured state of their morale, it was more than sufficient. The forces of the Black Path, the Hyeol-cheon-bo contingents included, had shattered into utter pandemonium, losing all willingness to obey the harsh commands of their leaders.

And there is no simpler task than eliminating an adversary that has abandoned all reason and acts purely on panic.

“Kua-ak!”
“Keo-heuk!”
“Aaaaak!”

Not only Yong So-a and myself, but the members of the Yong-bong Association joined the offensive, harvesting the lives of the Black Path warriors as easily as reapers clearing a field. At this stage, the invaders lacked the coordination required to pierce our lines.

And then, it happened.

‘Are they finally stepping in?’

The three high-tier combatants who had been monitoring the slaughter from horseback dismounted swiftly, leaping across the heads of the fleeing Black Path warriors as they made a direct line toward us.

*Tak, tak, tak.*

The effortless manner in which they crossed ten *jang* with every stride served as an immediate testament to their advanced cultivation.

*Hwirik—*
*Tak.*
*Tung.*

I was not the sole fighter to halt my blade upon their arrival. Perceiving the sudden spike in danger, Yong So-a and the allies from the Yong-bong Association lowered their stances and focused their gaze on the new arrivals.

“Kukuku. It has been a age since I came out to enjoy a skirmish, yet it appears I have become the entertainment instead.”

The figure standing directly before me wielded a highly unconventional weapon—a curved sickle secured to a long, heavy chain, recognized across the land as a *Swae-gyeom*. His left hand was encased in a distinctive glove crafted from emerald-colored leather. There existed only a solitary figure within the heterodox world who wielded such a bizarre armament paired with a green leather glove.

“Cheon-yo-bi-ja.”

The turncoat (*Ban-in*) who had previously commanded the Go-han-bang, only to systematically slaughter his own subordinates to remain its sole surviving master.

“Kukuku… you recognize me?”

I recognize you completely. In my previous existence, you pledged yourself to the Demonic Cult, and our paths crossed as bitter adversaries during the Great War between Justice and Evil. My memory of you remains exceptionally vivid because you were the monster who ambushed Mo-yong Seol, leaving her hovering on the brink of death.

“Naturally. Word spreads regarding a hideous old wretch who swings a chain-sickle to compensate for a barren scalp.”

I mocked him openly, observing his desperate, instinctive attempt to smooth the remaining wisps of hair over the crown of his bald head.

“Kukuku. I had heard tales that your tongue was venomous, but this is nothing more than a toddler’s tantrum.”

Ah, did that fail to hit the mark? I suppose such insults are only effective against fraudulent monks.

“Oh, that reminds me. There was something I wanted to confirm.”

I shifted my eyes briefly toward his lower half before looking back up, tilting my chin toward him mockingly.

“The rumors claim you suffer from impotence, meaning you can only achieve gratification through slaughter. Is that the true motive behind your annihilation of the Go-han-bang?”

“….”

The mocking smirk completely vanished from the visage of the old monster, who had been sneering through a handful of remaining teeth. Ah, so the rumors were entirely accurate.

“My original plan was to grant you a swift demise… but now I intend to tear the skin from your bones strip by strip…”

“And follow it up with salt?”

“Follow it up with salt…”

Cheon-yo-bi-ja stared at me with a bewildered expression, clearly stunned by how thoroughly I had anticipated his thoughts.

‘Why the shock? You repeated that exact boast constantly during my previous life.’

“Want to know how I guessed?”

“….”

Cheon-yo-bi-ja clamped his jaws shut. Then, he set his chain into a rapid, whistling spin.

*Chwa-reureu.*

The wildly revolving sickle gathered dense energy, tearing through the empty air. The moment I raised the Red Light Sword to discharge a burst of sword-qi, the sickle deflected off the energy blast and immediately altered its course straight for my throat. Dropping my torso backward into a flawless Iron Plate Bridge evasion, the razor-sharp edge snipped away several strands of my hair before snapping back to its master.

Capitalizing on the brief opening, Cheon-yo-bi-ja snatched the returning weapon and hurled it once more. This time, the sickle spun like a vortex as it shot forward. I countered its trajectory using the So-cheon Sword Style while emitting waves of sword-qi, but with a few deft jerks of his chain, Cheon-yo-bi-ja bypassed the entire defensive pattern of the So-cheon Sword Style to slip through my guard.

*Sli-ce—*

A fragment of my defensive robes drifted away, accompanied by a shallow laceration on my skin. Simultaneously, I retaliated with the Twin Heaven Sword Art, enveloping his position in a chaotic tempest of strikes.

*Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa!*

We traded a rapid succession of techniques, yet I failed to land a meaningful strike on Cheon-yo-bi-ja.

“You amount to nothing more than a loudmouthed brat.”

Given his mastery of the chain-sickle, an instrument renowned for its absolute unpredictability, he appeared thoroughly acquainted with the deceptive movements and illusions of the Tae-ul Sect. If traditional forms were ineffective, I simply needed to alter my methodology.

[Three Styles of the White Moon Worship]
[Extreme Speed]

Closing the distance as the old man attempted to space himself out, I executed Extreme Speed (*Geuk-kwae*). A thunderous atmospheric boom trailed closely behind the Red Light Sword as it sliced clean through the air.

*Kwa-aaaa-ek—*

A concentrated beam of pure speed slammed directly into his weapon.

*Bang!*

Stumbling back three paces, a trickle of dark blood escaped his lips.

“Ho-oh, how does a mere child wield the signature technique of the Sword Demon?”

Cheon-yo-bi-ja grinned, exposing his stained teeth. Abruptly, a sensation of lethal danger pricked the nape of my neck, prompting me to duck instantly. Just as expected.

*Chwa-reureu.*

A heavy meteor hammer fastened to the opposite end of the chain whipped past an inch above my head.

“The longer this lasts, the more fascinating you become.”

It was virtually impossible to anticipate Cheon-yo-bi-ja’s offensive patterns, which constantly layered deception upon deception and abnormality upon abnormality. He deliberately closed the gap repeatedly while manipulating the chain-sickle. Absolutely nothing aligned with conventional combat logic. The sole reason he managed to wound Mo-yong Seol, who had achieved the tier of Sword Queen, was undoubtedly this erratic, unpredictable style.

However, absolute unpredictability transforms into a readable routine when facing someone with a memory as flawless as mine. Ultimately, even erratic behavior boils down to muscle memory and habit.

‘In that case.’

I deliberately allowed myself to be guided by his tactical intent. A substantial distance still separated Cheon-yo-bi-ja’s true capability from my own. To engineer his demise, I adjusted my movements to make it appear as though his deceptive ploys were succeeding.

*Sli-ce— Sli-ce—*

Precisely as he intended, shallow cuts began scoring my flesh. Even though he clearly spotted an opening where he could have crippled my arm entirely, his sadistic nature was laid bare by his choice to merely shave off layers of skin to prolong the agony.

‘Deranged old bastard.’

To indulge in such torture even in the middle of a shifting war zone was entirely true to his character.

“Kukuku, what happened to that arrogant mouth of yours?”

Convinced that total dominance was within his grasp, he purposely exposed a minor flaw, baiting my retaliation. I obliged, directing the Extreme Speed of the Three Styles of the White Moon Worship straight at the vulnerability he had provided.

*Kwa-aaaa-ek—*

The sound of displaced air reverberated across the space. Yet, the only object remaining within the severed coordinates was his empty weapon.

*Tang!*

As the sickle was sent flying by the impact of Extreme Speed, the unraveling chain mapped out the exact path of his evasion. The very instant I pivoted my body to face the blind spot where he materialized behind me.

*Chwa-aaaa-ak—*

A cloud of fine, obsidian powder descended directly toward my face.

“Behold the Soul-Severing Sand (*Dan-hon-sa*). Within a brief fifteen minutes, the agony will compel you to pierce your own heart to escape it. But worry not. I shall personally ensure you survive for at least a couple of hours…”

Cheon-yo-bi-ja’s boast abruptly cut short.

“Why stop there?”

I inquired calmly, lowering the hem of the Dragon-Scale Robe (*Yong-rin-po-ui*) that I had used to shield my face from the powder.

“H-How did you…?”

He was evidently baffled by my preparation.

“Expecting to conceal a poison deployment while wearing glaring green leather gloves is beyond foolish, don’t you think?”

Naturally, I had foreseen this exact tactic, given that Mo-yong Seol had been incapacitated by the identical ruse in my past life. Quietly extending my left hand, I delivered a mirror response.

*Puck—*

A muted impact echoed from his midsection. He recoiled two paces in sudden alarm, but the technique had already left its mark.

“Hmm?”

Inspecting the point of contact, he muttered with a puzzled frown, as though the strike lacked force.

“That was the Silent Blue Crystal Seal (*Mu-eum-cheong-su-in*). Your internal pathways will gradually freeze solid from the core, until eventually, your heart ceases to beat.”

I returned to him the identical torment that Mo-yong Seol had ultimately survived.

“Struggle all you like. I can end it quickly if you beg.”

The moment I finished speaking, a layer of frost began creeping across his features. Despite the ongoing combat raging around him, he dropped to the earth and desperately initiated energy circulation (*Un-gi-jo-sik*). I watched with mild curiosity to see how long someone devoid of pure internal cultivation or dual-energy mastery could resist the creeping paralysis of the Silent Blue Crystal Seal.

“Ack!”

Regrettably, the experiment was cut short.

“M-My deepest apologies, Elder!”

A retreating Black Path warrior, stumbling blindly in his haste to escape, crashed directly into his stationary form mid-meditation, causing his internal energy to violently backflow as he coughed up a torrent of blood.

“Gue-eee-ek… Gue-eee-ek…”

With the freezing energy surging through his pathways precisely as his internal reserves went wild, the resulting agony must have been excruciating. Yet, as his musculature locked up into solid ice, he lacked even the physical capability to plunge a weapon into his own chest.

“Since you’re remaining silent, I’ll take it you still have a desire to live. Keep trying your best.”

Abandoning him to his agonizing demise, I shifted my attention over to where Yong So-a had just severed the head of the Poison-Handed Avalokitesvara (*Dok-su-gwan-eum*).

*Chwa-aaaa-ak—*

Yong So-a flicked the accumulated blood from the Zen Wind Sword. The surrounding rabble appeared completely unnerved by the display, refusing to step anywhere near his perimeter.

“You took your time. The reputation of Yong So-a seems somewhat exaggerated.”

Yong So-a offered a flat, emotionless retort.

“You look rather disheveled.”

True enough, his pristine white martial attire remained completely untainted by the surrounding gore.

“…But I secured the kill quickly.”

*Bang!*

Gwak Su-san, who had been heavily engaged with the Wolf-Fang Cup (*Nang-a-jan*), was blasted backward by a heavy impact, tumbling across the dirt to land right at our feet. In the background, Ma Sae-jin, Seo Cheon-pung, Wi Gong-un, and Danmok Gyo-ryeon were desperately working in tandem to pin down the Wolf-Fang Cup’s movements.

“*Danju*! What are you standing there for! Assist us at once!”

“Tsk.”

I pooled a dense concentration of sword-qi into the Red Light Sword and hurled it directly toward the Wolf-Fang Cup.

*Swa-aaaa-ek—*

The projectile of energy, cutting through the air like lightning, struck his heavy club, causing his massive frame to lurch off-balance.

“Old man, drop the weapon and make your exit.”

“What?”

“Can you not assess the situation? The matter is already settled.”

“…Kuhahahaha. You have completely lost your wits. Settled, you say?”

I gave a slow shake of my head.

“Is your situational awareness that degraded, or is your internal perception lacking entirely? Do you truly not sense it?”

“Hmm?”

“I am asking if you fail to perceive the sheer volume of forces approaching.”

Only then did the Wolf-Fang Cup adjust his stance, casting a wary glance toward the horizon.

“T-This presence…”

“Exactly.”

A massive detachment of martial artists was directing their collective aura toward this valley, closing fast.

“Are you familiar with the Blue Dragon Pavilion?”

“T-The Blue Dragon Pavilion?”

The color drained instantly from the Wolf-Fang Cup’s face.

“And that is merely the vanguard. Since the Blue Dragon Pavilion has mobilized, the local division will inevitably follow suit.”

Right on cue, from the reciprocal flank, I detected the approach of a rapid response unit moving at maximum speed. They undoubtedly comprised the Murim Alliance branch that had previously abandoned Hwa-pung-jang, alongside the various Orthodox sects operating out of Kaifeng.

I offered the Wolf-Fang Cup a final word of counsel.

“Regardless of how lucrative your contract was, wouldn’t standard flight be the wiser choice right now?”

Unless, of course, you harbor a desire to spend the remainder of your days rotting inside a Murim Alliance dungeon.